Tavern Tales
by Lavender Wine
Summary: Catherine Mason was just a a young woman running her own Tavern in New York city. She never knew anything about Templars and Assassins and only wanted to make her own way. Let other people try to fix the world, she had enough on her plate. But Shay Cormac always did have a knack of bringing in trouble...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: this is just a small project that I got inspired for. It should only be about 5 ish chapters. Hope you all enjoy! If you are interested I also have a tumblr called lavendermoonwine!**

The first time she met him, he smelled of gun powder and the sea. But that was not the part that caught her attention. Working in a tavern on the docks of New York, the smell of ocean and gun powder was common among patrons. But he moved differently than anyone else that came through those doors. If there was a word to use to describe his stride it would be "revolution".

With every step, Catherine could see the start and end to all wars. And he was a man who was very aware of the personal power that he held. Her eyes locked onto all of the weapons he carried on his person and took in a deep breath. A dangerous man too. So many women in this very tavern would have swooned over him -some already were- but not Catherine.

A dangerous man meant a possible dangerous situation. In _her_ tavern. With _her_ patrons. That kind of disruption was bad for business, could cause damage to property and have the red coats come sniffing about. She had hoped that he had just come for a pint and that he would be on his way immediately after. But he moved with a purpose and Catherine realized that he definitely wasn't going to just go away after he locked eyes with her

'Christ don't let him cause trouble. This week has been eventful enough as it is.' she thought to herself.

The stranger approached the bar and leaned his forearm against it. Catherine watched with guarded eyes as the music shifted to her favorite song, "She's Like A Swallow". He was even more attractive up close, she had to admit to herself, admiring the scar rolling over his right brow. Still, she wasn't ready to relax around him. Catherine bore her blue eyes into his dark brown ones, trying her best to imitate an imposing bar keeper.

"Haven't seen you around these parts." She noted evenly.

"Aye." He agreed in an Irish lilt, "I'm not often in this part of the city."

"What brings you here, then?"

"Business." Was his succinct reply.

"Well does that business involve you ordering a drink?"

A wry smirk curled at the corner of his mouth at her sharp tongue, "Aye. A jigger of whiskey."

"Coming right up."

Catherine pulled out a bottle and poured the robust whiskey into his cup before sliding it his way. The stranger wrapped his gloved fingers around the cup and took a drink. But his eyes continued to stare at her from over the top of his spirit. Her patience was wearing thing. He wanted something and she knew it.

"Let's not play games, sir." Catherine told him shortly, "You want something and I have a business to run, so just get to it."

The smile he gave her was small but roguish, "Would you believe me if I told you that what I wanted was you?"

"Not a bit. You came in here with a purpose and it definitely was not for me."

"Sharp." He praised, "But I won't lie when I say you are lovely."

"Flattery will not get you very far in these parts, sir." Catherine scoffed.

"It's Shay. Shay Cormac."

"I didn't ask. Now what do you want?"

The smile slipped from his face, "I'm looking for information." Shay said, leaning forward, his voice dropping to a low timbre, "What can you tell me about the gangs that have taken up residence in this district?"

Her brows shot up at his request before she furrowed them again and shook her head, "I can't help you with that, Mr. Cormac."

He frowned, "Why not?"

"I don't do business or have anything to do with criminals."

That was a lie but it spilled past her lips without a crack in her poker face. The Rum Runner had a reputation for being a safe harbor for people in trouble. Including those on the run. Taverns didn't just deal with food and ale, they dealt in secrets, connections and sanctuary. Some of her own staff had once been on the wrong side of the law, hard times pushing them to desperation. But here she gave them a fresh start. And she couldn't discriminate on where she got her business. And secrets…secrets she also sold just as she did any pint of beer.

Shay arched a skeptical brow, "Now lass, I thought we had a better rapport than that? And there's no point in lyin' to me. I've already found out about your reputation on the streets."

Trouble _and_ well informed. Catherine was not a fan of that combination. But she kept the scowl from her face and picked up another cup, wiping it out with her cloth. If she gave up as soon as anyone insisted they knew something, then she would be out of a job and all of the secrets she knew would be up for grabs. Besides, sometimes people bluffed. However, she had a strong suspicion that Shay knew exactly what he was talking about.

'I can't just let him have that information. Not for free. Those men, as much trouble as they are, give me a lot of business and are a part of my network. We may not be friends but they are still a part of the network.' She thought, flicking her guarded eyes back up to his gaze.

"Just what are you trying to insinuate, Mr. Cormac? I don't associate with criminals."

"How about I make it worth your while?"

Catherine set down the cup she was cleaning behind the counter and then leaned forward, staring him down, "I'm listening."

"First, if we're going to be making deals, let me get your name."

A smirk quirked in the corner of her mouth and she tucked a loose tendril of light brown hair behind her ear, the rest swept up off her neck to keep her unburdened while working, "That will cost you extra."

He chuckled then, "And how much would the lady's name cost?"

"Depends on what you can afford."

Her eyes glinted fiercely as they stared each other down. She was reeling him in and she could tell. That would make it much easier to slip him minor information and get away with it. However, their moment was broken when one of her regulars, Willis, staggered up to the bar with a laugh, his black hair falling loose from his ponytail.

"Ehhhh, Cat! Cat, Cat, Catherine, I've been," he braced himself against the wood and swayed dangerously, "I've been, uh, waiting for you to come refill-hic- my rum."

Catherine pulled back from Shay and fixed a venomous glare on her regular. But Willis was far too drunk to notice or care. The Irishman, however, had a satisfied smirk on his face, which made her feel even more cross. Frustrated and feeling a headache coming on, she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Catherine? That's a lovely name."

"And it will be the only free thing you are getting tonight. Enjoy it." She replied tersely.

"Heyyy, Cat, I'm uhhh thirsty." Willis took a hold of her wrist and hauled her closer to him, but the counter still kept them separated, "But you –hic- don't need to give me rum. I, hehe, can think of another way you can satisfy my thirst."

In a bold and lecherous move, Willis grabbed the front of her bodice at the top of her breasts and tugged her forward. Shay started to move then but she quickly held up a hand to signal him to stop. Catherine had run this tavern for several years on her own. She aimed to keep it that way. The brunette gave Willis a sultry smile then and reached her hand out to caress his left cheek, sliding her fingers back into his hair.

"Oh Willis." She purred, "Didn't I tell you earlier that I had cut you off?"

Before he had the chance to answer, Catherine shoved downwards, slamming his head down into the unyielding wood. His nose cracked from the force, blood spurting out and onto the counter before she shoved him backwards where he crashed to the ground. Willis began cursing loudly, the entire bar stopping what they were doing to watch the next sequence of events unfold. Her drunk patron staggered to his fee, his eyes blazing with unbridled rage. Shay was already on his feet and glared down at Willis.

"That's no way to treat a lady."

"Sit back down, Mr. Cormac. I've run this tavern before you stepped in here and I'll continue to even after you leave." Catherine leveled her piercing blue eyes onto her patron, "And you, get the hell out. You've caused enough fuss for one night."

"You bitch!" he snarled.

"Stay out of this, Cormac." Catherine barked before she saw him move.

"But this man-!"

"I know perfectly well what he's doing. _Stay out of it_."

Willis charged forward, a snarl curled on his lip but instead of moving out of the way, the bartender pulled out a flint lock pistol and leveled it right at her unruly patron's face. Even drunk, Willis knew that he couldn't take on a gun.

"You're drunk, Willis. Get the hell out of my tavern and go home."

"I'll tell my wife!" he spat in a pitiful threat.

"Please do. I'm sure she'll pay me for putting you in your place. Now get out."

Anger made his cheeks flush red but he staggered out into the freezing New York night, defeated. The silence ended then, the music starting up again in the corner, everyone else going back to their conversations. Catherine tucked her gun back beneath her counter and returned to standing in front of Shay.

"You're a tough woman." He noted.

"Running a place like this, you have to be. Now let's get back to business. You said you would make it worth my while?"

"That I did. Perhaps we can continue this…some place private?"

Catherine did not need to be a smart woman to notice the way he looked at her when he said that, to catch the way his voice dropped even lower at those last three words. She scoffed then. He certainly was full of himself, wasn't he? But she supposed when he looked like that he had a bit of room to be.

"Not going to happen." She told him bluntly, "I'm married, Mr. Cormac. Besides, I wouldn't take that as a valid payment even if I weren't."

"I see. My apologies, I didn't know you were married."

Catherine had to admit she was surprised that he was willing to drop his flirtation and interest just like that. In her neck of the woods it did little to dissuade men from propositioning her. Begrudgingly she had to give him a bit of respect for that.

"Your apology is accepted. Now what were you offering?"

His gloved hands produced two hundred and fifty pounds to which she snorted, "Please don't waste my time."

"Is there something wrong with what I offered?"

"That kind of money may get you places at other establishments but not here. If, in theory, I was affiliated with criminals and I really did have the reputation you claim, that means that theoretically my reputation would be what would keep a considerable portion of my patrons coming. Giving out the kind of information you want would theoretically ruin my reputation if it got out. Meaning this won't be cheap."

Shay squared his shoulders, "Then what's your price?"

"Ten thousand. Take it or leave it."

"That is unreasonable." He told her furrowing his brows in a scowl.

"It costs big to get big." Catherine smiled, "Why don't you think on it over your whiskey."

She carried on with her work, feeling quite confident that she had won and Shay would leave without the information he wanted. Catherine did not lightly sell out significant information about her network. But if he did come up with the money she would take it. Despite the flimsy contact she had with them, they had been causing her a lot of problems lately and had even started trying to get HER to pay protection money.

Catherine had no plans on changing her price. That was until Abner entered her bar. He leered at her with his yellow, blocky teeth and let his unkempt hair hang into his face. Willis was belligerent but not too much trouble for her to handle. He always came back in the next day, apologizing profusely. But Abner was an entirely different level of trouble and she could never get him to stop coming. The young woman instantly left from behind her bar, grabbing one of her pistols and intercepted him at the door.

"I've told you that you are not allowed in here anymore Abner?"

"Awww." He said mockingly, "But why? I brought great business."

"You know very well why. Harassing me, my patrons and my staff was reason enough. The last bar maid I had working in here left with a black eye and tears because of you. Get out before I bring in the red coats."

"Ooooh, scary." His massive hand seized the muzzle of her pistol and held it away from him so it could do no damage. His other took her jaw, his grubby fingers gripping her tightly and forcing her to look up into his face, "And I still ain't seen that husband of yours around."

"He's away on business."

Abner grinned, "He's always away on business."

"I am aware. Now get off me!"

Catherine squirmed but when he didn't let go and laughed in her face, she viciously kneed him in the groin. The pain was enough to force the brute of a man to release her and she stumbled back, pistol still in hand. This time Shay did interfere and moved swiftly between them, shoving back Abner.

"I think you need to take a walk. Or I'll have to teach ya some manners."

Fights were normal in her establishment. But after the confrontation with Willis, Catherine really didn't want another one, especially with Abner. Flintlock pistol ready, she pointed it at the focus of her ire. Abner curled his lip in a sneer but backed away with his hands up in surrender.

"Now now, Cat-"

"Don't call me that." She interrupted coldly.

"No need to get hasty here."

"Just get out Abner."

"…alright. For now."

He slipped out the door leaving the tavern in peace once more. Catherine heaved a relieved sigh and then turned back to face Shay.

"Mr. Cormac, I've changed my mind about the price and you might find this more affordable."

The Irishman looked down at her with a quirked brow, "And what price is that?"

"Abner has been a thorn in my side for well over a month. He has harassed me, my patrons and caused more than a few barmaids to leave in tears. Run him off and keep him from coming back and I'll give you whatever information you need."

Shay gave her a small smirk, "Consider it done."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Trigger Warning! Descriptions of Rape, Sexual assault and physical assault! Read at your own risk! (They are not with Shay though)**

The second time she saw him, it was noon on the following day. But this time The Rum Runner was empty, far too early for drinking and the few tenants she had staying in her rooms were out conducting their own affairs. Given that it was so slow, she had sent home her helping hands and told them to come back later when business would begin to pick up. He entered, carrying a dusting of snow on his shoulders and an icy breeze that swept in from the sea. And he still looked as confident as ever.

"I've taken care of your problem." Shay declared.

Catherine raised her brows doubtfully. She found it hard to believe that he had taken care of Abner so thoroughly in such a short amount of time. The man had been dogged in sticking around The Rum Runner, no matter what she arranged. It seemed too good to be true…

"Oh really? And what did you do?"

"I taught him a lesson in manners."

She knew it was too good to be true. Catherine sighed and swept her hair back out of her face, "You gave him a beating did you?"

"Aye. He won't be coming around again."

"And here I thought you would be useful."

Stressed, the young woman poured herself some spiced rum and knocked it back. The alcohol burned its way down her throat and pooled warmly into her belly. It wouldn't be enough to get her drunk but it would definitely take the edge off.

"What's the problem? I did as you asked."

"No, you didn't." Catherine scoffed, leaning over the counter to stare at Shay, "I asked you to run him off and keep him away permanently. If a simple beating was all it took, it would have been taken care of a while ago. Look around you. While this tavern may get a lot of fights, there have been more than a few patrons who have tried to beat him and throw him out. He always comes back."

Shay squared his jaw and furrowed his brows, "So what would you have me do then?"

"I don't care! Just make sure he can't come back! Maroon him on an island, frame him from some horrible crime – you may not even need to frame him to get that, kill him for all I care!"

"Kill him? That's a serious thing to ask, lass."

His tone made her bristle, "Don't get all moral and upstanding with me. You are a killer."

His eyes flashed then and he leaned forward, "And what makes you say that?"

"Spare me your innocent games. No one walks around as well armed as you and isn't a killer. **No one**." She pulled out another cup and poured in some whiskey from an already opened bottle, sliding it towards Shay, "You may not like it, you may even think that you are doing it for good reasons or you may just not care. Either way, that's part of what you are. And you clearly are working for someone when you do it. You're too finely dressed. Your weapons are cared for and top tier, the best that can be found."

The Irishman opened his mouth but she held up her hand to stop him.

"Don't bother. I don't know who you work for and I'm not going to ask. If we are being perfectly honest with each other, I don't WANT to know. I learned a long time ago to mind your own business. You live longer that way."

Shay took a long swallow of his whiskey before speaking, "So you want me to kill him?"

"I really don't care what you do. As long as he doesn't come back."

"Tell me, what has this man done that makes you so indifferent about me taking his life. You may be a tough woman but I can see that you don't like people being killed."She narrowed her eyes at Shay to which he gave a small half smirk, "You aren't the only one who can read people, Catherine."

"Don't call me that."

"It's your name, isn't it?"

"A name that you have not earned the privilege of using." She quipped lightly, "You calling me 'lass' is fine."

Shay took another drink before bracing himself with his forearms against the counter, "You still haven't answered my question."

The real question would be what **hadn't** Abner done?

"His list of offenses is quite long." Catherine answered, evasively.

'Asking too many questions about my husband being one of them.' She added inwardly.

"Give me some examples then."

A frustrated sigh escaped her, "Are you always this inquisitive?"

"Aye. Especially with beautiful girls."

"I am **married** , Mr. Cormac." She reminded him in exasperation.

"I meant no offense."

Catherine decided she had best just give him some of what he wanted to know about Abner, "To name a few things he's done….He's beaten up a few of my customers, I've caught him trying to steal some of my spirits on more than one occasion and last week he forced himself upon one of my bar maids. I found her crying and bloody behind the tavern when she didn't come back in from throwing out some burnt bread." The brunette curled her lip at the memory, "Abner likes to beat his women bloody so they're cryin' when he has his way with them."

Shay's eyes darkened in disgust, "That is beastly…" His gloved fingers reached out and traced a scabbed over slash, encompassed in a mottled bruise along her hairline, "Does that mean this was his work, then?"

Catherine did not shy away from the feather light touch on her face. She often forgot that it was still there until someone asked her how she came to have it. But more than that she found it strange at how gently Shay was treating her. She watched him suspiciously. Tenderness was such a foreign thing to her here that she always assumed that there was an ulterior motive for such treatment. But what more could he possibly want? They were already in the middle of a deal and she had already told him that she was married.

"Yes. He came after me not two days after he had his way with my barmaid." Her eyes glazed over as she remembered his greedy gropes and violent blows upon her person. Still remembered a grubby hand grasping her throat as he shoved her against the filthy bricks of her own tavern.

" _Don't worry, love. At least one of us will enjoy this."_ He had growled out between his bared and yellow teeth, his acrid breath hanging like a cloud over her face.

Catherine couldn't breathe, his fingers were too unmercifully tight against her throat. Her pistols were inside and she had no knife on her to slash at him. All she could do was pitifully claw at him, hitting and scratching and pulling wherever she could reach. But it was impossible to make him budge as he clumsily raked his free hand across her curves.

It was so dark. There was no way anyone would see the two of them unless they walked nearly ontop of them. Catherine could smell the ocean, hear the lap of the waves but it was all soiled by the odor of rotting garbage and excrement wasting away in one of the nearby allyways. The sound of her clothes tearing reached her ears before finally she started clawing at his face, trying to go for his eyes. He howled in pain before back-handing her across the face. She fell to the ground but that was all she needed. The darkness made it nearly impossible for him to find her in his drunken state and she took full advantage of that. Catherine pawed around for a weapon, something to defend herself against-

"Lass?"

She blinked several times, disoriented, as the inside of her sunlit tavern came back into her view. When she realized that she was not back behind The Rum Runner with Abner bearing down upon her, she took a deep, steadying breath. But those memories still hung around her head like old ghosts that never left. They were fresh from last week, so Catherine took another drink of her rum, feeling the burn exorcise those feelings of fear, vulnerability and disgust. Shay wasn't touching her face anymore and she was thankful for that. Tenderness was not something she could handle with composure at the moment.

Catherine forced down another swallow of spiced rum before shaking her head, "Abner…did not get as far with me as he did with my barmaid. But he is a menace. Hell, killing him could be considered a public service." She squeezed her cup tighter to try and stop the faint trembling in her fingers, "I don't care what you do or how you do it. But he cannot be around here anymore. The authorities haven't done anything, they don't care about a few battered women."

"Why hasn't your husband done anything?" Shay demanded.

It was almost touching to her to see him get so angry about the way Abner has acted.

"He is away on business."

"Haven't you sent him a letter? Business can wait when your own wife is gettin' hurt!"

Catherine took another deep breath, "We both decided that it would be best if he stayed out on the frontier and traveling. We have been considering expanding our reach, building more taverns. It is safer for him to be the one to do it. A woman can't travel through the colonies alone and safely. Not even me."

"Then why don't you hire someone else to watch the Rum Runner for you?" He insisted.

"We don't have that kind of money, Mr. Cormac. Besides, we don't have anyone that we can trust to manage it and keep up with some of our friends who are crucial to run it."

"And by friends you mean criminals."

"I did not say that."

"Lass, let's not play games. Just like you've been reading me, I've been reading you. I think we both have a decent idea of who we are dealing with."

"Fine." She conceded, "But leave my husband out of this. We both are trying to make the best of this that we can."

"Fair enough."

"Just get it done. If you do it, I'll tell you whatever you want to know about that gang."

Shay nodded, "I'll take care of it."

"Be quick about it. He might come back tonight."

Xxxxx

The third time she saw him it was later that evening at the peak of her business hours. The bar was loud, rowdy and filled with playful tavern songs. Despite how much more active it was compared to the night before, it was a much friendlier crowd and it was on nights like this one that she truly enjoyed her job. Catherine would even drink with them a little. When she saw Shay enter she poured him a jigger of whiskey.

The Irishman actually sat down at the bar this time instead of standing and he accepted the drink with the tip of his head in thanks. He took a swallow and that was when she noticed the small spatter of blood on the arm of his coat. It looked like he had made the effort to clean up but that was all that she needed to see.

"I took care of your problem. He won't be troublin' you again."

"I see. You did a fine job. Would you mind sticking around until the business hours are over? We can discuss what you need to know in private then. Besides, I have a tavern of customers to entertain and take care of."

Shay smirked softly and looked around, "I can think of worse places to have to hang around."

"Indeed." Came a different voice.

Catherine flicked her gaze to see a grizzled looking man not quite old but far past the days of his youth. At first glance he would seem an intimidating fellow but his warm brown eyes always radiated kindness. The hard look on Catherine's face evaporated into a large smile.

"Cyrus!" she exclaimed with delight, "You're back!"

Cyrus chuckled jovially, "Well I couldn't stay away from my sweet Catherine for too long, now could I?"

She snorted, "You sly dog, don't you pull that. You and I both know that of all the words to describe me, 'sweet' is not one of them. Besides," She grinned and braced against the counter, "I happen to know that you really love your wife."

"She's a marvelous woman! I don't know how she's put up with me all these years."

Catherine smirked, "Me neither."

"Alright now little lady, don't make me set you straight!" Cyrus growled out.

"Oh you can certainly try. Won't that hurt your hip though, old man?"

Cyrus lifted up the cane he used to help him walk and brandished it in a threat at her, "I will use this."

She laughed and held up her hands in mock surrender, "A devastating weapon to be sure. What will it be? Your usual? I can have Evelyn get you some of her stew."

Cyrus smacked his lips at the thought of food, "Don't mind if I do have some of that! And yes, my usual." He turned and looked at Shay, "And just who is this young man? Mind if I sit here?"

"Not at all, please do."

"Cyrus, this is Shay Cormac. Mr. Cormac this is Cyrus Underhill."

"Good to meet you, Shay!" Cyrus greeted warmly, extending his hand, "I'm an old friend of her husband. Good man he is."

"A pleasure, sir." Shay said, taking his hand to shake.

Cyrus sat in the stool next to the Irishman, "Have you had the stew here, Shay?"

"I can't say I have."

"You should order some if you have a hunger in your belly. Evelyn, the cook, has the best stew in New York!"

Shay turned back to Catherine, "I'll have what he's havin."

"Coming right up, gentlemen."

Catherine set a large pint of ale in front of Cyrus and then slipped back to the kitchen to pass on the order to Evelyn. Shay's eyes watched her disappear before returning to his Whiskey, the music still filling the tavern.

"A lovely woman, isn't she?" Cyrus finally said after taking a big gulp of his ale, "If I was a younger man, not married and she wasn't married she'd have to beat me off with my cane."

Shay laughed, "I could only imagine. Is she always by herself here?"

"Well yes. It's been that way for about two years now since she and Charlie-boy decided that they should expand. He used to come back every now and then but after about six months that stopped. Catherine said that it just became a lot for him to do as he traveled further away. But even before he left she handled the tavern mostly herself."

"I see…She's a tough woman."

"She's had to be but she's a good sort. By the way Shay, I haven't seen you around here before. And since Catherine is talking to you so formal-like I'd say she hasn't 'let you' use her real name yet. So you have to be kind of new around here."

"Ah well that's-"

"Mr. Cormac made something of a business deal with me." Interrupted Catherine who had come back with two steaming bowls of stew in her hands, "Because of our deal he's taken care of my Abner problem."

"Abner? He was still coming around?" Cyrus asked shocked, his eyebrows raised, "I thought you had him beaten and thrown out."

"More times than I can count. He was annoyingly persistent."

"Well thank you sir. I'm glad you were able to help my Catherine here be safe again in her own tavern. That man was a disgrace and a thug."

"It was no trouble at all, sir."The Irishman took a hearty bite of his stew, chewing the chunks of beef slowly before swallowing, "This is delicious!"

"Isn't it though?" Cyrus laughed, clapping Shay on the back, "Little lady Evelyn back there could steal my heart with that stew!"

Catherine gave a small smile and leaned forward against the counter, "So how long are you back in town for, Cyrus?"

"I'll be back for over a month! Then I'm off to Philadelphia!"

"Always on the move, aren't you?" she asked with a crestfallen sigh, "So quick to leave me."

Her friend gave a grin, "I've got the soul of a traveler, what can I say?"

"No, you've got the business of a prosperous tradesman."

"You know what you can do for me? Play me a song." Cyrus's grin grew wider, "You always seem to come alive when you play on the fiddle."

"You play the fiddle, lass?" Inquired Shay with piqued interest.

"A little."

"Oh don't be so modest! Catherine here is marvelous with a fiddle." The friendly grin on his face morphed then into an impish smirk.

"Cyrus, don't you dare…"

The crippled gentleman turned to address the bar, thudding his cane on the wooden floor, "HEY LADS! LISTEN UP!"

The tavern quieted a bit and Catherine groaned and buried her face into her hands, knowing what was coming next. Cyrus clamored to his feet, hobbling forward a bit with the help of his cane. A dull murmur from sailors, crew workers, delivery boys, brick layers and the like still hummed about the tavern but it had fallen mostly quiet. Some puffed at their pipe's in anticipation of what Cyrus had to say.

"What say you to little Catherine here playing us a song?"

Many of the customers that night had been around to hear her play before and they all roared their approval, some lifting their tankards of ale, slopping the pale amber liquid onto the floor. The brunette voiced her disapproval, claiming she wouldn't be playing but the tavern drowned her out with more roars of encouragement. She was sure if they got any louder the red coats would come running in to investigate. Two of her regulars hopped behind the bar and hauled her up onto the bar. Catherine swatted them away but a fiddle was shoved into her hands and she wasn't quite sure where it had come from but the wood felt so comforting and familiar in her hands. She was going to resist, continuing to reject their demands but her plans didn't quite work out.

Catherine locked eyes with Shay and his eyes twinkled in mischief. The brunette gave him a warning look but that did nothing dissuade him. If anything he seemed to be encouraged by her glare. The Irishman polished off the rest of his whiskey, slamming his cup back down onto the bar before rising to his feet. Cyrus and Shay shared a look and Catherine knew then that she probably wasn't going to get out of this.

"What will we do with the drunken sailor?" Started Shay, bellowing his voice so the tavern could hear.

And like she feared, the rest of the crowd joined in. She cast him a dirty look before lifting the fiddle to her chin with a huff.

"What will we do with the drunken sailor? What will we do with the drunken sailor early in the morning?"

Catherine began to play as everyone else's singing roared in her ears. She quickly lost herself in the sounds of her fiddle, feeling rejuvenated at making music again. The singing was not an organized thing and by no means with trained vocalists. It was wild, disarrayed and many of the men singing were off key, inebriated heavily with alcohol in their system. But there was a genuine character to this kind of music, Catherine found, than you could find at any of the orchestra or gathered group that practiced their sound to perfection.

She was coaxed into playing more songs for the night while the barmaids bustled about, filling orders. Catherine had been a bit rusty at first since she hadn't played her fiddle since her husband Charles left. There was just always something to do, another errand to run, another criminal giving her trouble that she almost never had time to herself. When she did, she usually collapsed into bed to sleep until morning to do it all over again. The whole tavern sang and danced until it was far too late and people were staggering out to sleep until they woke to a hang over.

"Well I must be off, Catherine! I'm afraid I stayed far too late and my wife will be quite cross with me!" Cyrus exclaimed, rising to his feet.

"Cyrus, if you'll wait a bit longer I'll walk with you." She insisted, "I have to walk my girls home anyways so it won't hurt you too much if you wait just a bit longer."

He waved her off nonchalantly, "Oh, I'll be just fine. Not a lot of people want to have anything to do with an old man like me. Especially a cripple. But you and your girls be safe out there!"

"I'll look after them, Cyrus. Now get out of my tavern, you old coot." When he left, she gathered up some of her pistols and stuffed them into various pockets she had stitched into the folds of her clothes, "Alright girls, get your things! And don't worry about the mess, I'll take care of it since I got roped into playing the fiddle all night!"

The Rum Runner was definitely quite the mess. Spilled ale, whiskey and rum mixed together in such a powerful stench of alcohol that a weaker man could probably become inebriated just by inhaling it. Cups and plates and food particles were all over the floor. Someone had forgotten one shoe but that was not the weirdest thing Catherine had seen left behind. Dark ash from the pipes of her customers was scattered across the floor, smeared on some of the tables. In the corner the checker board and pieces were strewn everywhere and she was sure that there were going to be pieces missing. Again.

Catherine just felt tired looking at the mess she had to clean up.

"Mr. Cormac, would you mind accompanying me? I want to make sure my girls make it home safely. We can discuss our business on the way back."

"Aye, I will."

Shay was very popular with her bar maids as well. After spending the evening with so many crude men, he was a breath of fresh air. Especially given that he did not try to put his hands on them. And it was hard for many to overlook such an attractive man. Most of her girls lived nearby so the walk was quick enough. When at last they had seen the last one home, they set back to walking to The Rum Runner.

"Now, to business then. Thank you for your patience."

Shay nodded at her in affirmative, the contours of his face faintly highlighted in the dim light of the moon and lanterns, "So what can you tell me?"

How to handle this? A bargain was a bargain sure but she can't give away all of the secrets. That was the foundation of most of her connections.

"The gang sets up their quarters in the northeastern corner of the district." She said carefully, "I can't say I know all of what they do because I'm not privy to that kind of information. But I do know that lately they've been hauling in a lot more weapons. I'm not sure where they are getting them from but even I am a little nervous with the artillery they are bringing in. It's almost like they are preparing for some kind of assault."

"Against them? Or for them to do against someone else?"

"It's hard to say. It could very easily be one or the other. Or even both."

"That's not comforting to hear."

"I won't disagree with you on that. Those thugs may be part of my network but that doesn't mean that I support all that they do. And they are growing bolder."

"Look who it is!" Exclaimed a rough voice from a nearby alley, "It's little Cat out for a midnight stroll!"

Catherine paused in her steps, tensing at hearing her name. She recognized that voice and she also recognized the man it belonged to when he emerged from the shadows, accompanied by four other men. She began to wonder just how much trouble was she even capable of getting into in one week.

"I thought you 'ad a 'usband." Drawled another thug, she knew his face but never cared enough to learn his name, "But 'ere you are with a man I ain't seen before. Got room for some o' us too?"

"Mr. Cormac is a business associate at the moment and he agreed to accompany me while I made sure my girls got home safely." She responded tersely.

The leader of this little rag tag crew, she did know the name too and he grinned at her widely, malice flashing in his eyes. He had some missing teeth and a few had even gone nearly dark from lack of care. His hair was kept back in a messy pony tail although it looked to be in a better state than Abner's always had. But Isaac always made her feel greasy whenever he talked to her, his voice disgustingly oily.

"No matter, no matter. But really, love, you haven't paid us your due…"

Catherine scowled, "My due?! Excuse me?"

"Protection money. I mean, it's to help keep some unfortunate accidents at bay. You understand."

"I will pay you no such thing! If anything you lot owe ME money for the numerous evenings that you didn't pay for your tabs!"

Shay had enough of staying silent, "The lady will not be paying you anything. You had best clear off before you get yourselves hurt."

His words were spoken with a hard dangerous edge that seemed so different from the way she had been hearing him speak. Isaac and his cohorts did not at all seem pleased with the way Shay spoke to them. No argument really happened; instead one of the more hot headed men drew his sword from his hip and lunged at Shay. Catherine did not get the chance to blink before the Irishman parried the blow and rammed his blade into his opponent's chest.

A fountain spray of blood erupted in a flash before fading to a steadily growing stain on the front of his clothes. By the time his body crumpled to the ground with a meaty thud, the other four surged forward. Pulling out one of her pistols was not something she wanted to do that night. But it was not because of killing someone, although she didn't want to do that either. It was because pistols were loud and would attract the attention of any red coats that could be patrolling nearby. Not that the clash of steel was much quieter.

But when one of the four began to bear down on her, blade drawn, Catherine was left with no choice. She acted the frightened young woman and backed away so she could lure the man away from Shay's general direction. She was a good shot but she didn't want to take any chances of shooting him on accident. The man who advanced towards her was a brute but took her bait without any suspicion. In the dark of the night, he couldn't see the outline of her pistols in her clothes. By the time he saw one of them, he was staring down the barrel.

The pistol went off with a spark and the sound of thunder echoed throughout the sleeping streets of New York. The man was dead instantly, without even the chance for a scream. After all, no one survived a shot to the face at such a close range. When he collapsed to the ground she stared down at the bloody mess that she had left behind. Shay cut down the last of them when they heard a shout of alarm from way down the streets. He seized her wrist and quickly dragged her along, Catherine stumbling over her feet to keep up as they ducked into nooks that crept around the buildings. She could barely keep up and could barely comprehend how he could process where to go and move so quickly.

Her mind got a moment to catch up when Shay jerked her around the side of a half finished wooden planked fence and shoved her against it, pressing himself flush against her in tense silence. Under any other circumstance, she would have been offended and hit him for invading her space like that. But she could hear the red coats drawing closer. Catherine nearly held her breath, afraid that even smallest breath would alert them to their presence.

She didn't know how long they sat like that but it felt like an eternity. Though the snow was not sticking, it was still drifting from the sky and melted into their hair, chilling her to the bone. But still they sat until at last, they faded into the distance. Shay retreated from her, allowing her to step away from the fence. Catherine was panting softly, still trying to catch her breath from their sudden sprint through the back alleys of the city.

"Thank you." She told him gratefully.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes…yes I'm alright. Thanks to you."

"Was that your first…?"

His words trailed off but she almost instantly knew what he was referring to. The gang member. The one she killed. The detail of how she had mangled his face with her flintlock pistol was still fresh in her mind. It was a foul taste upon her tongue and yet…

"No. I had to kill my first man when I was fifteen. When I poked my nose in places I shouldn't have."

"I see…"

"Given the events of tonight…you are about to get a lot more information than you were."

Shay furrowed his brows and nearly growled, "You were going to hold back?"

Catherine eyed him, "I couldn't afford to give away everything without reason. It would get out and then no one would ever trust me again. I would have given you usable information but things that would likely not have been linked back to me. I still have to run a business and it is a poor tavern owner who gives away everything she knows."

"So what will you be telling me?"

"Everything I know about them. They have more than crossed a line here and any other of my contacts will support me in this decision. I will even walk you to their base. Now." Catherine set off on a brisk walk, not even bothering to look to see if Shay was following, she knew he would be, "Those brigands have been looting a lot of weapons but I also know where they are getting them. I've heard some of them talking too much about it when they have had too much ale. Some take them from shipments that come in from outside the city. But they have also been breaking into small outposts of the red coats and taking them. Earlier this month they murdered some of the British soldiers and looted their uniforms. They have been using them to get into more secured places ever since."

"Smarter than I gave them credit for."

"I will be frank with you. This is not their normal behavior. Their leader is a brutal man who knows how to hold his own and keep his men together but this is far craftier than he is capable of. I think he is taking direction from someone outside of the base. I have lived in these parts for some time and I have never seen them execute anything this intricate. They are normally the attack first and ask questions later sort."

"Any idea who's been leading them?"

"None. I haven't heard any talk of anyone so I'm only forming my own theory based on what I know of them. There is something else. Through my network, I've heard that they have recently been working with…some kind of drug. I don't know how it works and I've heard both stories of gas and powder but the affected hallucinates. They start seeing things that aren't really there although I don't know why they would be making such a thing."

"Have they used it on anyone?" Shay asked, easily keeping stride with Catherine's swift walk.

"Not that I have heard of. But it's possible. I heard that two weeks ago there was a mob outbreak in the western part of the district but that could be unrelated. Other than showing you the fort, this is all I have to give, I'm afraid."

"This is more than enough, thank you."

"You have more than earned it." Catherine came to a stop, wrapping her old fur shawl a bit tighter around herself, "Oh and Shay?"

He stopped with her, turning to look her in the eyes, "Aye?"

"You may call me Catherine. You've earned that too."

Shay smiled victoriously, "A pleasure, Catherine."

"Just don't let it go to your head."

"I wouldn't dream of it."


End file.
